Stilettos
by Pamplemoussex.x
Summary: "In the distance, a horn sounds angrily on the Kingston Bridge, but it is not this sound that has caught and held his attention." Slash


Stilettos

**Author's Note: You can't go wrong with some slash and a wee kink :) They are supposed to be slightly out of character, by the way. **

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own a thing**

It is one of those perfect summer evenings that Glaswegians see all too rarely when the late afternoon sun is reluctantly giving way to dusk and the streetlights are slowly flickering. Passing pedestrians on the quiet street below cast elongated shadows on the dark tarmac and the burnt orange and fiery red glow from the setting sun reflects in the swells and ripples of the fast flowing River Clyde.

He turns his gaze from the open window that offers a scenic view across the surging river that divides the populous Scottish city. In the distance, a horn sounds angrily on the Kingston Bridge, but it is not this sound that has caught and held his attention. Rather, it is the persistent clicking sound that he has become accustomed to hearing when he visits the small apartment.

The sound, one so soft and precise that at times he is unsure of whether it may purely be his imagination continues and he glances upwards, his brow furrowing as he does so in a combination of annoyance and confusion.

There is a brief pause and the apartment falls silent save for the soothing sounds of the metropolis in the background before the clicking resumes its steady, rhythmic pace much like the calculated clicks and tones of Morse code. Often he entertains the absurd notion that the sounds he hears are not unlike the gentle footsteps of his mother when she trotted around their home whilst getting ready for work. But of course, he thinks with a small smile, offering another short glance at the ceiling, her feet were clad in low heeled work shoes, which was a simply ridiculous idea.

After several minutes of listening inquisitively to the incessant sound above he grows weary and crosses to the living room door in two long strides. Leaning out of the partially open door he glances at the narrow wooden staircase with its intricate banister and the coating of chipped white paint and calls out the older man's name.

He does not receive a reply.

Despite entering the ninth month of their relationship, one which is as of yet highly secret, he thinks with the slightest pang, he is yet to have been invited up that staircase. After a night out they consistently without question return to Stuart's home on the outskirts of the city and in the beginning he had put it down to the Detective simply requiring his own space, an area in which no one intruded and Stuart had of course always respected the older man's wishes.

But now, with those strange sounds that reverberate throughout the small apartment he has found that he is becoming increasingly impatient and extremely curious as to what his partner may be keeping from him.

They have few secrets between them, regardless, Stuart can not help but to wonder if there is something that Robbie is keeping from him. It does not cross his mind that there is every possibility it may be detrimental to their relationship. He simply needs to know the reasons behind these bizarre sounds.

Standing in the doorway he deliberates for some time and his eyes continually fall on the staircase and the landing above. His curiosity is quick to get the better of him and slowly, with tentative steps he ascends the stairs gripping onto the banister with such force that his knuckles have begun to turn a shocking white.

Beneath his weight the stairs groan and creak quietly but these sounds are almost certainly drowned out by the continuing clicking. The sounds from Robbie's bedroom become louder with each step he takes and there is a sole fleeting moment in which he wonders if he may be making a mistake. Surely he has no right to encroach on his partner against his wishes.

His heart is racing and he can hear his pulse thudding loudly in his ears as he takes the first step onto the landing and stretches out his right arm to gently grasp the brass door handle.

Turning it, he steps into the bedroom accompanied by the chilling creak of the door as it slowly swings open. He pauses.

He does not quite know what he had been expecting to find when he ventured up those stairs, but the room certainly takes him by surprise. It does not in any way reflect neither his partner nor his attitude; it is neat and tidy, to the point of being obsessively so with everything in its own place and the surfaces are free from any clutter; the lemon hued silken bed sheets are creaseless and the assortment of pillows are arranged in such a way that they are nothing short of an art form. Bright, eye catching artwork decorates the four plain white walls and the thick lemon curtains framing the French doors leading onto a small balcony are yet to be drawn allowing the fading sunlight to cast the small room in varying shades of orange.

But it is not the state of the room that ultimately takes him by surprise. It is not the colourful rugs hiding the pale laminate flooring or the framed picture of him and Robbie on the bedside table that knocks the air right out of him. It is in fact the man standing in the centre of the small room, the one whose mouth now hangs slightly open in shock.

He is dressed in a casual understated manner that is altogether effortless yet will still turn plenty of heads, in a pair of loose fitting dark jeans that sit low on his slender waist and a dark purple shirt that clings to him like a second skin and falls open to reveal a smooth chest. Stuart barely glances at the ensemble as his attention is firmly rooted on the dark haired man's lower section, specifically his feet.

Normally, he would be wearing his old, scuffed work shoes that Stuart has rarely seen him out of; in fact Stuart was largely unaware that he owned any footwear aside from his trusted boots. Tonight however, his feet are encased within a pair of outlandish red stilettos.

A narrow red strap adorned with tiny silver studs that catch and dance in the light crosses his foot and the material appears to be made of some satin judging by the way it shimmers delicately.

He now stands at almost a full head taller than the younger detective who, try as he may, finds that he simply can not tear his eyes away from the gaudy shoes. As shocking as it may have been to walk in on Robbie wearing high heels, there is something wholly arresting, possibly even alluring about seeing those shoes on his lovers' feet.

Immediately he dismisses that thought from his mind and the rational part of him tells himself that this is Robbie's idea of a joke; Robbie who had always had a rather strange sense of humour, although if this were indeed some form of joke then it certainly falls flat on Stuart.

It is some time before Robbie speaks and before he utters a word he loudly clears his throat in an awkward manner as though he is trying desperately to summon the courage to address his partner.

"What in God's name are you doing in here?" His voice remains calm and gruff, but Stuart does not miss the fact that his cheeks are rapidly darkening in embarrassment in the fading light. Robbie Ross embarrassed, well, there _is_ a first for everything.

The blonde continues to stare for a moment longer before he draws his eyes up to meet Robbie's. "So, that's what the clicking has been? Would you mind explaining exactly _why_ you're wearing high heels?" he eventually manages to stutter out.

Another lengthy silence, this one far longer than the first, ensues between the couple and during this time neither seems capable of looking directly at the other. Shifting uncomfortably Robbie replies flatly, "Because- Because I like wearing high heels, alright? I like wearing fucking _women__'__s__shoes_." He spits out the final sentence with such venom that Stuart unwittingly recoils.

When Robbie fails to receive a reply he continues in his explanation. "I've always liked them, ever since I was a kid. I used to go into my mum's room and try on her fucking heels, because-"

He does not finish his sentence as his words are hastily swallowed when Stuart, in one swift movement pins him against the wall and his lips crash against his forcefully. The dark haired detective does not immediately react to this abrupt change in manner, but once the initial surprise subsides he kisses him back feverishly, and tentatively his hands slide down the younger man's side before they come to rest on his waist pulling him closer to him.

As the kiss intensifies the blonde nips at his lower lip and his long fingers dig into Stuart's narrow hips, and Robbie's own hips involuntarily leave the wall to thrust against him his erection pressing into the other man's stomach.

They break apart momentarily to gasp for air and Stuart takes this as an opportunity to bite at the thin pale flesh of the older man's neck where it meets with his shoulder, an act which receives a loud groan of pleasure in return. Gripping at Robbie's shoulders he pulls him from the wall and, caught up in the other and with hurriedly removing items of clothing, they clumsily stumble towards the bed their lips mating greedily.

By the time they pause again, Robbie is clad in nothing more than a pair of plain black boxers; the stilettos lie discarded by the foot of the bed, forgotten in their passion.

Stuart stops and allows his eyes to run across his partner's toned torso, meanwhile he bites down on his lip in an unsure manner that causes Robbie to take a short step back, his brow furrowing as he observes the younger man before him.

"What is it?" He is panting slightly, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"Robbie, can you do something for me?" He feels strange to be asking such a thing of him but he can not help himself. There was just something about seeing his lover in a pair of towering heels; it seems to have flipped a switch inside of him.

"Aye, anything."

Stuart turns away for a brief moment and stoops to pick up the previously forgotten shoes. He stands using the edge of the bed for support and holds them gently by their thin, eye catching straps, and states in a voice that he does not quite recognise as his own, "Wear these."

A fleeting look of surprise passes over the older man's face before it slowly gives way to a smile and he takes the shoes that Stuart holds out to him. In one swift movement he has removed his boxers and deftly he slips his feet into the red shoes and fastens the straps, and as he stands before him Stuart looks at him taking in every fine detail, especially the way in which the muscles in his legs stand out with the addition of the heels.

"You're perfect," he manages to breathe out after several seconds of simply staring at his partner's body to which Robbie simply laughs and slams his lips against his as he pulls him down onto the bed.

They fall back against the bed; the sheets rustle lightly with each movement and are icy cool against their warm skin which is already coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

Stuart nibbles at the detective's ear lobe earning a quiet moan of satisfaction and slowly, he wishes to savour each and every moment of this evening, he moves downwards placing delicate light kisses along Robbie's strong jaw. Robbie's hands grasp at Stuart's shoulders, his blunt nails dig into the flesh and Stuart continues to move down beginning to kiss and bite at the smooth exposed skin of his neck when the brunette tips his head back in pleasure.

He moves down his chest planting a line of kisses whilst he trails his fingernails down his torso causing Robbie to writhe beneath him and to utter his name in a low, languid moan. His tongue dips into his navel as he passes his stomach before he reaches his erection and slowly, he begins to softly lick at the underside.

He moves upwards trailing the pad of his tongue along the length and proceeds to lightly lick at the tip before he takes him into his mouth and begins to suck gently. Beneath him Robbie moans and raises his hips slightly.

Stuart continues to suck at the tip before he lowers himself, slowly taking in Robbie's length and his breath catches in his throat when he again runs the tip of his tongue along the underside. He closes his eyes tightly and grasps the smooth bedcovers in his fist to stop himself from going over the edge.

One of Stuart's hands runs down the length of Robbie's leg pausing at his calf which he slowly massages relishing the feeling of his fingertips brushing against the edge of the satin heels. He reaches down and gently caresses the smooth, cool heel and raises his head to look at his lover. His eyes remain closed, his chest is rising and falling rapidly and the tips of his fingers shake slightly where they clutch desperately at the bedcovers.

He brings his hands up and strokes his thighs as he pulls one of Robbie's legs up onto his shoulder feeling the back of the heel resting against his back. With his free hand he gently strokes his entrance with one finger and Robbie's eyes flutter open as he enters him; he adds a second and finally a third as he stretches him working his fingers in and out.

He pushes into him and rubs against his prostate causing him to toss his head back and arch his back emitting a loud moan of satisfaction. Stuart pulls his fingers from him and pulls the brunette closer to him as he angles himself, his tip pressing against his entrance.

Gently he pushes feeling himself enter him and bites back a groan when the muscles in Robbie's leg tighten and his shoe digs into his shoulder. He grabs his other leg positioning it like the other over his shoulder and grasps his partner's hips as he pushes himself deeper inside of him.

He pulls back slightly and slips in again enjoying Robbie's moans of pleasure as he slowly inches deeper. Suddenly he pulls out and then slams into Robbie hitting his prostate as he does so; the brunette grabs at the bedcovers and digs his heels harder into Stuart's back which encourages him to thrust faster.

His shoulders burn from the pressure of the stiletto heels but he does not complain, but rather leans back enjoying the feeling of the smooth satin against his bare flesh.

With one hand he grasps at Robbie's erection and strokes him before he picks up the pace in time with his thrusts. The stilettos dig deeper into his back and he tips his head back as Robbie groans and utters his name as he thrusts his hips up and, tightening around Stuart he squirts his seed over his stomach.

Stuart finishes soon after him and Robbie's legs drop from his shoulders causing the indentations on his back to burn, but rather than pain he feels only pleasure. His arms are shaking beneath him and he collapses against his partner before he slowly and carefully pulls out of him.

He rolls over and leans up to kiss his nose followed by his lips and, leaning his forehead against Robbie's he asks, "How many more pairs do you have?"

"Three," he replies still trying to catch his breath and slides his arms around him. "There's a black, a pink and a white pair."

Stuart smiles and kisses him again. "You can wear the pink pair tomorrow."

**Thank you for reading ^^**


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